


No Idea What I Can Do

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death Fix, F/M, Fix-It, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hospitals, Injury Recovery, Minor Character Death, Nogitsune Stiles, Pack Feels, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 06:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1335598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my visceral-reaction Fix-It Fic for <i>Insatiable</i>, episode 3x23, which obviously contains spoilers for the episode. If you haven't seen it, don't read anymore because even the notes might spoil you. This is not a shippy fic, but the pairings listed are part of the dynamic, so I felt them important enough to tag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Idea What I Can Do

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken liberties with the dialogue in 3x23 and the snippets in the promos for 3x24, using some of it but in different ways than I'm sure it will be used next week. I wrote this to undo the major character death in the episode. It's total indulgent _undoing_. There are two minor character deaths which happen off-screen, however.
> 
> I fully admit this was written the day after the episode in the passion of _no, no, no_. Because Allison. _Because Allison._
> 
> Come commiserate with me on [Tumblr. ](http://cousinshelley.tumblr.com/)

When the blade sliced into her, Allison felt more than the pain of the wound. She felt bleak. These creatures came out of the darkness and brought darkness with them, and now they were controlled by a creature so malevolent and dark, just being near them made a person feel first unsettled, then sad, then wracked with despair.

Hopelessness. That’s what she felt right after the pain. _It’s over_ , she thought. And she felt the darkness embracing her and trying to pull her away.

Her next thought was of her father, how she didn’t want to leave him, especially not like this. _I’m sorry, Dad. I’m so, so sorry._ Then she thought that as long as Lydia was safe, she wouldn’t have done anything differently, and she knew her father would understand, as cruel as it was that he would be left alone, after everything. She thought, she _felt,_ all these things before the sword had been pulled from her body.

Scott caught her as she fell, and she thought how glad she was he was here to hold her so she wouldn’t die alone.

***

“ _No_.”

Scott raced to Allison, catching her and pulling her close, told her that Lydia was okay. He touched her hand, despair settling in the pit of his stomach when he couldn’t take her pain.

“That’s because it doesn’t hurt.”

Scott felt like he’d been punched in the chest, and struggled to draw a breath around the fist in his throat. “ _No_.”

Allison smiled, a tear running from the corner of her eye. “It’s okay,” she told him, again and again. Then, “It’s perfect. I’m in the arms . . . of my first love.”

Scott said her name, shook his head, refusing to accept any of this. _It’s not supposed to be this way._

“The first person I ever loved. The person I’ll always love,” she said. “I love--I love you, Scott Mc--Scott McCall.”

“I love you,” he whispered, barely able to keep from screaming at the sight of blood on her mouth. _She’s 17._ _Allison can’t die, she’s 17 and my first love and all her father has left in this world and part of my pack--_

“ _Isaac_ ,” he screamed, as if Isaac were miles away. “911, _now_.” He didn’t care what questions might be asked or what kind of investigation there might be if Stilinski didn’t reach them in time to handle things. He didn’t care. They’d find a way around it; they always did. Scott threw his phone in Isaac’s direction in case his had been damaged when the Oni attacked.

Scott shook his head, tears and sobs coming hard as she smiled at him. No. No, this is wrong. He wasn’t surprised that Allison accepted death as gracefully as she’d embraced life, but something was so wrong about all this, so wrong about her saying _it’s perfect_.

He had to do something. He couldn’t let her die, but what could he do? The words he’d spoken not long ago seemed impotent now.

_I’m a True Alpha. You have no idea what I can do._

Scott rocked her, thinking of the Oni, the Nogitsune, Lydia’s screams, Stiles’ nightmares--there had to be something. The Oni had marked them, all of them, even the twins and now Stiles. But he didn’t think it had happened to Allison. He checked behind her ears to be sure. No _self_.

_This isn’t you, Stiles. It wasn’t you._

“This isn’t you,” he said, the words coming out strangled at first. “Allison. _Allison_ , look at me. This isn’t you.” He wept openly, because if he were wrong and she died like this, he’d never forgive himself. Was she left more unprotected from the darkness than the rest because the Oni hadn’t marked her? It had to mean something, didn’t it?

“It’s not perfect, it’s not okay. You dying is _not okay_. You’re a fighter. You don’t give up. You _fight_ the darkness, Allison.”

Allison barely shook her head, as if the movement were too much for her. “I can’t. Scott . . . .”

“You _fight_ , damn it!” Scott thought he could feel the darkness that had surrounded all of them since their sacrifice trying to wrap around Allison. Trying to take her away from them.

Stiles had been taken away, and they’d found him. They’d gotten through to him in his own mind, because Stiles was pack. _How do wolves signal location to their pack?_

_Allison was pack._

Scott let his eyes shine red and spoke to her with the authority of an alpha--her alpha. “You’re staying here with us, Allison. You. Can’t. Go.”

The peace that had come over Allison’s face when she said goodbye to Scott was gone. Her brow furrowed and she sobbed. “ _Scott.”_

A drop of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. Scott cradled her closer and locked red eyes onto hers. “Stay right here. Ignore the darkness, Allison. Stay with your pack.”

The darkness pulled harder, wrapping cold around her even through the cradle of his arms. She was slipping away. _How do wolves signal their location . . . ._

Scott threw his head back and howled, he _roared_ out the pain and fear of the last several weeks when he thought he was losing himself, losing Stiles and now losing Allison. He howled his despair, fear and pain, and to signal his location, a beacon to keep Allison focused on where she needed to stay.

***

Derek opened the door for Deaton, who’d brought various substances and varieties of wolfsbane in an effort to save Ethan and Aiden. Derek had insisted he come at once, since it was unlikely they were going to find one of the shells intact. Without it, everything was guesswork, but Deaton had more knowledge than the rest of them. Maybe he could save them.

Derek had the empty shell Chris left with him when he hurried off to help Allison. Maybe residue in the shell would lead Deaton to the right variety of wolfsbane. Maybe it wouldn’t.

He only knew that he’d wanted to go with Chris to help rather than stay here and try to save the bastards who’d used him to kill Boyd. But leaving them alone would have been cruel, even though he wasn’t sure how he could help Deaton beyond holding them down as he burned the wolfsbane into their wounds.

He’d come this far. He’d brought them back to his loft when he could have just left them in the Preserve to die. He would see it through, mostly because that’s what his mother would have expected from him. She would have expected him to be better than these boys had been, and not to jump at the chance for revenge even when it was placed in his lap.

He heard Lydia. He heard Scott. He ached to go.

But he’d waited for Deaton, and tried to make himself hope Deaton could cure them. He thought Boyd, surprisingly gentle and clever Boyd, might appreciate the act of mercy even after what they’d done to him.

Erica wouldn’t. She’d wag a carefully manicured finger and scream at him to rip their throats out. And of all things, that thought of her made him smile.

***

Peter was already on his way to Lydia when he heard Scott. The sound made him want to both bare his neck in submission and attack out of defiance, and it made his stomach clench. He knew someone was dying--Lydia’s scream had roused him from an almost self-hypnotic state where he’d been trying to figure out why Talia had taken his memories and what it all could mean.

Lydia was a spoiled, uppity, self-absorbed princess, but Peter had the urge to protect her at all costs. Maybe he’d done that to himself by using her as he had, or by being so fascinated with her banshee abilities. Whatever the reason, he raced toward her scream to protect her, and now he supposed he raced there to help Scott, too.

What he found was Scott cradling the Argent girl, telling her to fight and that she had to stay, while she sobbed and shook her head.

It was clear Allison was grievously wounded, but the smell of her blood wasn’t quite right. When certain organs were pierced and certain fluids began seeping into the body cavities, the scent changed. He’d come to associate the scent of those things happening with death, because it almost always followed. That wasn’t here.

There was a chance she could live, if help got there quickly enough. If she hung on.

Darkness hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, and he thought once more how he hated most supernatural things he didn’t fully understand. And he hated that it was an Argent he’d be helping to save, if she lived. But it was an Argent who hadn’t burned his family, she’d just been a kid when that had happened, and an Argent who was important to everyone whom he knew in this god forsaken town.

An Argent who was Lydia’s best friend.

“Start by taking her pain,” he said as he approached Scott, surprised he wasn’t already doing that. Scott shook his head at Peter, who looked down when Scott’s red alpha eyes trained on him.

No pain. That wouldn’t do. Pain made you human, anchored you to the human experience. And gave a wolf something to grab onto.

Before Scott could keep him back, Peter snapped Allison’s wrist. She cried out and pressed her face against Scott’s chest, but she should have screamed. It was almost too late.

“What are you doing? It’s not going to trigger healing, she’s not a wolf!” Scott growled, fangs sliding out and hair sprouting on his face.

Peter knew that if he’d not been holding tightly to Allison, Scott would have attacked him. “Allison, focus on your wrist, even if it stops hurting. Scott, take her pain, but dig deep. Pull her back, use it as a tether and don’t let her go.”

Scott, still partially shifted, put his clawed hand on top of Allison’s and grunted as his veins ran black. Peter raced toward Lydia again.

***

Scott did as Peter said, taking her pain and hanging onto Allison with that connection. _Please please please_ “I won’t let go,” he told her. “I’ll never let you go.”

And he wouldn’t, no matter what, even though the what-ifs terrified him. When a bomb had gone off at the police station, and he’d taken the deputy’s pain and felt him die, Scott felt a part of himself trying to slip away with the man. And he still thought maybe a tiny part of him had. It had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced and still left him unsettled, how he’d had to pull himself back at the end or feel like he was slipping away.

If that happened now and Allison died while he was connected to her in this way, Scott wasn’t sure there’d be anything that could pull him back. Still, he strained to hang on.

Isaac howled, but came no closer.

***

Deaton looked at Derek, and didn’t have to shake his head to tell Derek what he needed to know.

“So there’s absolutely nothing you can do.” Derek didn’t ask, he just needed to say it and get confirmation.

“The wolfsbane used in these shells is a mixture of so many varieties, amounts, other ingredients that enhance the effects . . . even if I had a lab in the next room and a list of the exact ingredients, getting them in the right proportion . . . it would be too late before I could make much progress. I’m sorry.”

Erica’s voice echoed in his head again. _I’m not_. He imagined Boyd wrapping his arm around her shoulders, and nodded. “Thank you for trying.”

Derek had tried. He’d pulled them out of harm’s way, brought them into his home and stayed with them while Deaton tried to find a cure. He’d done everything he could do, and that was more than anyone ever had the right to expect of him.

Except his mother. She would have expected it, no matter what, because she always expected the best from her children, especially Derek.

 _I did everything I could_ , he assured himself and his mother. _I tried, Mom. I sincerely tried._

They were going to die, that course couldn’t be changed. So Derek dragged each of them from his couch to the floor and pulled them across it. They lay next to each other, near convulsing now, black ooze coating their chins and chests. They’d heard Deaton, knew they were going to die, but Aiden frowned up at Derek.

“What are you doing? Why--”

“This is the spot where you killed Boyd.”

Aiden closed his eyes. Ethan put his hand on his brother’s arm. Derek turned and left the loft, headed for the people who needed him.

***

When Peter found Lydia and Stiles, Lydia lay against Stiles’ chest, near unconsciousness. He took her face in his hands. “Lydia. _Lydia_.”

She opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath as if she might scream again.

“Shhh, shhh,” Peter said. “What do you feel.”

“Allison,” she sobbed. “She . . . it’s different now.” Her eyes widened and her mouth opened into an ‘o’. “I don’t know--I don’t know if she--”

“And before, you knew. You knew she would die.”

She nodded and sucked her lower lip into her mouth. Lydia looked at Stiles, who hadn’t roused. “He’s dying. We have to--”

“One pointless death at a time, Lydia. Come on.” Peter lifted Stiles into his arms and led Lydia outside. As soon as she saw Scott holding Allison, she bolted for them. Stiles groaned and opened his eyes, and Peter wondered if he had any idea what had happened yet.

“Lydia!”

“She’s fine, she’s just ahead of us with Scott.” He felt the tension drain out of Stiles’ body.

“You’re . . . carrying me.”

“Yes.”

“Let us never speak of this again.”

“Agreed.”

Peter was spared Stiles’ reaction on finding out what happened by the sound of sirens quickly approaching. He didn’t want to be there when they arrived. He lowered the boy to the ground not far away, and motioned for Isaac to come over, hoping Isaac would get between Stiles and the spot where Scott and Lydia hovered over Allison. It might be best for Stiles not to know until one outcome or the other were guaranteed. He felt fragile as bird and his scent . . . it was still wrong.

***

“Stiles!” Sheriff Stilinski pulled in right behind the ambulance, panic pounding his heart when he saw Stiles on the ground, Isaac kneeling next to him.

“I’m okay, Dad. It’s okay.”

Then he saw Scott, Lydia . . . . “Oh my god.” The paramedics were pulling the kids back away from Allison Argent, and judging by the faces of her friends, things didn’t look good. As they slid the stretcher into the back of the ambulance, Scott shouting at Allison to hang on, to listen for him and stay with him, John hurried to Scott to find out what had happened.

Chris arrived just as they closed the ambulance doors. He scanned the group and realized the only one missing-- “No, no, no, Allison.”

“She’s hanging on,” John said, grabbing his shoulder. “Follow the ambulance to the hospital. Can you drive? I can take you, if not.”

“It’s fine, I can drive.” Chris didn’t ask anymore questions, but hopped back in his vehicle and raced behind the ambulance.

After John determined that Stiles didn’t also need an ambulance--he still thought Stiles needed one, but the boy insisted--he and Scott quickly came up with a cover story for the questions that would undoubtedly be asked. Then they all hurried to the hospital. Kira left with her mother, heading to the same place.

When they got to the hospital, Stiles didn’t move to get out. “It’s my fault, Dad. Everything, all of this . . . it’s my fault.”

“I know you feel that way, but no one blames you, Son. Allison won’t blame you.”

“She can’t if she’s dead.” Stiles took a deep breath as if he’d only just realized that Allison could die. “She can’t do anything, if--” He covered his eyes with his hand, so John grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him close.

***

Derek had found very little except blood by the time he arrived, too much of it human. Common sense then led him to the hospital. Kira and her mother, Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Stiles and Chris sat in the waiting room, drawing stares from some of the other people, because Scott and Isaac were in torn clothing covered in blood.

Everyone looked up at him except Chris, who seemed to be in a universe all his own, but no one spoke. No one had to. The only one missing was Allison. And even if he hadn’t noticed that, Chris’ face was enough. Derek wasn’t good in these kinds of situations, where you could do no more than be there for someone. He could act, and he could plan, but offering silent support had never been a skill of his.

He noticed Stiles’ hollow eyes and the way he looked barely awake, slumped bonelessly in the seat, and remembered how Stiles had offered support after Boyd, and how that had been the only thing that had kept him from shaking apart.

Derek put his hand on Chris’ shoulder. The man looked up at him with tears running down his face, at first as if he were surprised by the touch, and then as if it meant everything. His lips quivered as he nodded. Derek gently squeezed Chris’ shoulder, then let go and sat in an empty chair next to him.

***

“No rest for the wicked,” Stiles said bitterly, as they approached the Nogitsune and his Oni the following night. They’d sat in the emergency waiting the rest of the night, until Allison was out of surgery. The doctors could tell Chris little more than she was alive and holding her own, but there had been a lot of damage, a lot of bleeding, and they just didn’t know.

They’d stayed most of the day, hoping for the uncertain news to turn to good news. Every now and then someone looked at Lydia, who could only shrug and shake her head. They took that as good news, but hearing it from the doctor would have put them all at ease.

Now, night was falling, and Stiles knew he was dying, and they were about to face down his evil alter ego and his backup warriors, and--

Evil alter ego. His shadow self. He thought of all the Nogitsune’s riddles, the answer to all of them had been the same. _Shadow_.

That’s why he was dying.

“Oh my god, Scott. Oh my god.” Stiles’ laughed until he coughed, alarmed at how wet it felt inside his chest. If this didn’t work, he didn’t think he’d live until the next night to try again.

“It’s killing me, because it took part of me with it. My shadow self. Like Kirk when the transporter malfunctioned and split his good and bad sides. It’s like bad me mixed with bad it, and I need to get it back.” He hoped and prayed that was it. “When did my life become the plot of a _Star Trek_ episode, and why?”

From the blank stare Scotty gave him, Stiles knew he had no idea what he’d been talking about. “ _Star Trek_ , Scott? I know you’ve managed to live your life without seeing _Star Wars_ , but surely you’ve seen reruns of _Star Trek_.”

Scott shook his head.

“I am revoking your geek card, my friend. You do not qualify.”

Kira stepped up to them. “So how do we get your shadow side back into you? If that’s really what’s happening, and we kill the Nogitsune outright . . . .”

Scott shook his head. “We’ll find a way to get it back. We’ll make you--it give . . . you back . . . to yourself.” Scott frowned and turned to go

“Scott, hold on. I know what you’re all thinking. If that doesn’t work and we have to kill it outright, if we can, it might kill me, too. But even if it does, you have to go through with it. Stick with the plan, okay?” _I can’t be responsible for any more death._ Stiles was determined this was going to end, one way or another, tonight.

“The plan is to save you.” Scott let his eyes flash red. “That’s the plan I’m going with.”

Before Stiles could protest again, Scott forged ahead, and the Oni attacked. None of them came after Stiles, but focused on Scott, Kira and Isaac. They wouldn’t kill Stiles, because he was connected to the Nogitsune, who was somehow dying. It stood across the little courtyard from him, smirking, looking as close to death as Stiles felt. _My shadow self_. But why was it dying? Had it left part of itself inside Stiles when it copied him?

He knew his theory about _Star Trek_ was right. He watched Kira fight the Oni, her sword sparking like lightning as steel clashed. She’d told them about how she’d fixed the sword with her power. _Her power_.

Stiles made his way around the circle of the courtyard, supporting himself with a hand on the wall and trying not to collapse. It got harder and harder to breathe as he got closer to the dark version of himself. The Nogitsune smirked and kept its eyes on Stiles. As he got close, he swore he could feel a crackling energy between them.

 _We’re gonna do this_ , he thought. _Gonna put me back together whether I live or die, but all without William Shatner’s dramatics._

“Kira!” he shouted, as he launched himself at the Nogitsune, embracing it tightly and hanging on. The realization on his own face staring back at him was a beautiful and terrifying thing to see, but whatever crackled between them made it difficult for the Nogitsune to push him away.

“Do it! Use your power. Both of us at the same time!” He clung to himself, which was a weirdness he knew he’d revisit if he lived long enough to think about it again, while the Nogitsune clawed at his arms and back, trying to dislodge him.

“Stiles, no!” Scott shouted, lunging forward, but an Oni blocked his path.

Kira sliced across another Oni’s stomach, enough to distract it for the time it took to rush across the courtyard. She plunged the sword into Stiles upper back and forced it through both bodies, until it protruded out the Nogitsune’s back. She knew what Stiles had meant, it had clicked in her brain as the right thing when he’d shouted. She only hoped it worked.

She’d made sure her sword had pierced the Nogitsune’s heart.

She held the sword tightly in both hands and breathed, electricity coursing from her to the steel and the two bodies it was buried inside. Stiles and the Nogitsune screamed, a constant sound, as the glow inside them and around them served to white out everything, as if they were a sun about to blow.

The air seemed to recede, pulling Kira’s hair with it, and then an explosion sounded without the force. The sword clattered in pieces to the ground, and the white ball of light disappeared. Stiles stood alone, a circle of blood on his back where her sword had pierced him. She touched with her fingertips to find no wound.

“Stiles!” Scott tried to push through the Oni and stumbled forward as it dissolved into black mist. Kira watched the others disappear. Stiles collapsed.

Next to him, a fly buzzed and spun in circles as if trying to take flight with a broken wing. It stopped making noise but kept trying to move. Kira smashed it beneath her boot.

***

Lydia shifted in the uncomfortable seat. She’d become all too familiar with hospital seats over the past couple of weeks, and she thought that once this was all over she never wanted to see another plastic chair in her lifetime.

She looked down at her clasped hands and closed her eyes, checking herself and listening. She did that now, sometimes several times an hour, like a compulsion: _what do I hear, what do I feel, is the urge to scream building?_ She wondered bitterly if there were 12 Step programs for nervous banshees and then thought that she’d been around Stiles too long if she was coming up with things like that on her own.

An elbow bumped her arm, so she opened her eyes. “I was just thinking about you.”

Stiles smirked at her and raised an eyebrow. “Sex thoughts?”

Lydia smiled, something she hadn’t done enough of for weeks and weeks. “Ah, you caught me.” It was hard not to smile when looking at Stiles now. The dark circles were gone from beneath his eyes, and he sounded like himself again. Even though sometimes when she looked at him and he didn’t think anyone was watching, his pain was almost too much to take.

Stiles put something in her hand.  “I know they’re your favorite.”

She remembered when he’d given her Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups in a hospital once before, and reached up to wipe a tear from the corner of her eye.

“Aw, don’t think I’m too chivalrous or anything.” He held up another package. “Got one for myself, too.” Her sentiment wouldn’t seem to be stopped, so Stiles put his arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry about Aiden.”

Lydia looked at him, expressionless.

“Okay, I’m not sorry about Aiden, not in the least little bit. But I’m sorry that you lost someone you seemed to like.”

Lydia nodded. “Thank you.”

“Have you seen her today?”

“Not yet. Chris is in there now, so I thought I’d wait.”

“She’s gonna be okay.”

“Stiles, you can’t know that. It’s been almost two weeks and she still hasn’t opened her eyes.”

“I can. This is Allison Argent we’re talking about. Crossbow-wielding, Chinese ring-knife spinning, I can kick everybody’s ass and still look gorgeous and make good grades Allison. She could kick your ass and my ass and not smear her mascara, Allison. And . .  she has to be okay. There’s just no other option.” He squeezed her shoulders and took one of her hands in his. “Record-scratch, double-take, no other _fucking option_.”

Chris reached them before they realized he’d come out into the waiting room. “Allison’s awake,” he said, eyes shining, smiling at both of them. He put his hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “And she’s asking for you.”

***

Lydia sat on the edge of the bed with Allison’s hand firmly between her own. Lydia cried as she rambled, as if she had to get it all out at once before she completely broke down.

“ . . . and next time I tell you not to find me, you don’t find me, do you understand? I didn’t leave that message lightly, I was trying to save your life and you almost ruined my plan to do so, and I am probably going to hold that against you for a very long time. I know you have your guns and arrows and swords and Scott and Isaac have teeth and claws and Kira has whatever lightning thing it is that she has and Stiles has the intuition and the mind of a detective but I have very good ideas, and if you would all listen to me when I tell you something now and then I’d have to sit in those godawful hospital chairs a lot less often . . . .”

Allison sniffed and smiled, and Lydia let go with one hand to wipe the tears on Allison’s cheeks. Allison’s other hand was in a cast to the elbow, and Lydia was not letting go of her hand anytime soon.

“And thank you, for coming after me, even though I told not to. I love you, and I’m so glad you’re okay despite your need to rush headlong into mortal danger.” She smiled through her tears and pressed Allison’s hand to her cheek.

“I heard you scream,” Allison said. “I know it’s crazy, you were probably too far away for me to hear it, but I know I heard you, and I knew it was for me. I focused on that. And I kept hearing it, even when I woke up, like it never stopped.”

Lydia tilted her head. “You’re my best friend, and I thought I was going to lose you. Maybe it never did.”

***

Scott used a finger to brush a wisp of hair off Allison’s forehead, then kissed her there. “I will always love you, you know. Whether we’re both in Beacon Hills or on other sides of the country, whether we’re together or with other people--”

“Whether one of us is gone.”

“Then, too,” Scott said. “None of that will ever change the fact that I love you, Allison Argent, and always will.”

“Of course,” she said with a shaky smile. “I _am_ very lovable.”

Scott smiled, but then his expression turned serious. “Don’t ever do that again. Not ever.”

Allison teared up and nodded, and then Scott held her, his forehead pressed against her temple, until the nurse knocked on the door announcing another visitor.

***

“Don’t say it, Stiles. Just don’t.” Allison shook her head, knowing what was about to come out of his mouth. “This wasn’t your fault, you’re not responsible for anything that has happened since the Nogitsune got inside you. So don’t.”

His wet eyes and the way his mouth shook just a little, and the way he rubbed his fingers together, she’d learn those were his tells. They’d seen Stiles cry enough in the last few weeks to last a lifetime, and she really didn’t know if she could take seeing it again. They’d all cried so much, and this was Stiles, he wasn’t supposed to be torn up in misery about horrible things he had no control over. He was supposed to be _Stiles_.

“But--”

“ _Stiles_.”

“Okay, Okay. Just let me say this, whether it’s my fault or not--I’m sorry. There. I said it. I feel better, do you feel better?”

“Okay, yes. Now no more of that.”

“Okay. Yeah, what is this nonsense anyway.” He forced a laugh and rubbed at his eye. “I knew you were going to be fine all along, no suspense for old Stiles. Dad told me you were failing Econ. I knew you wouldn’t leave that on your permanent record.”

Allison laughed. “Oh my god, I did tell him that, didn’t I? Seems like a year ago.”

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking, you and Kira should really teach Lydia some ninja mofo when you’re better. A scream and the ability to hear incredibly creepy shit isn’t much of a self-defense plan.”

“You’re right,” she said with a smile, because this was _Stiles_ again.

“I mean, she could take off one of her shoes and put somebody’s eye out with the heel, but that takes a lot of time, and some of them are really strappy and complicated. She needs to be able to protect herself against--against things.”

Allison knew what he was thinking. _Things like me_.

“You could be like Charlie’s Angels or the Three Girl Musketeers or something. Kicking ass, taking names, long, slow shots of your hair in the breeze. That’d actually be kind of hot.”

Allison laughed and slapped his arm. He kissed her forehead and lingered long enough that she thought she was going to have to deal with a crying Stiles after all.

“Hey, I brought a Sharpie!” he said, sniffing and mercifully changing the subject.

***

Allison wiped her eyes as Isaac stepped in like she might be about to throw something at him. He approached the bed and sat on the edge as if she were glass.

“Hey, Allison. So . . . I’m really glad you’re not dead.” His eyes stayed round, his lips pursed in that way they did when he wasn’t sure if he’d said the wrong thing.

It was the funniest thing she’d seen in a long time. “Ow, ow, don’t make me laugh like that.”

Isaac smiled, as if relieved he hadn’t said something stupid. He stood and cupped her cheek. “I mean, I’m really glad.” He kissed her softly and held her hand tightly in his, and was careful not to move much when she closed her eyes and dozed so he wouldn’t wake her.

She’d just woken up and smiled at him when Chris came back, wanting more time alone with his daughter.

***

Chris lay on top of the blankets in the bed with Allison, an arm underneath her neck. They faced one another where their heads lay on the pillow together.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said. “I’m proud of us, yes. But mostly, I’m proud of you. You are _excellent_ , Allison, in so many ways. Your grandfather, your mother, your aunt, me . . . you put us all to shame, and I need you to know that. You’re the best of us all.” _I needed to say that, to know I said it and you heard it. I should have said it long ago._

“Dad . . . .” Allison smiled and blinked rapidly, her eyes filling with tears.

“And you’re so very grounded. Stabbed by a Japanese demon on a school night? What were you thinking?” He smiled when she laughed and let his own tears run down his face. It wasn’t like him to joke, especially not about things like this, but he had no choice now.  Every time he thought too hard about how Allison had almost died, he had to change the thoughts in his head or he was sure they’d destroy him.

“So I was thinking, we should move. Hawaii is nice this time of year. Or, well, any time of year. There’s Florida. Or we could go to Colorado and take up some snow sports as hobbies. Hunting is overrated. Let’s be a skiing family instead.”

Allison laughed, and groaned softly at the pain in her side. Chris kissed her hand, his eyes narrowed in concern at her pain.

“But my friends are here.”

Chris sighed. He hadn’t been serious, but he also knew that if she’d shown the slightest interest he would have packed them up and hauled out the minute she was released from the hospital. Then he thought of Derek. Not his enemy, not exactly his friend. But they’d both made great strides in that direction.

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe mine are, too.”

***

Allison and Scott walked slowly around the park, the arm not in a cast hooked around Scott’s elbow. Since she’d been released and cleared to start getting some exercise, her friends had shown up each day practically fighting about who got to walk with her to help build her strength back up. Today, Scott won.

“This is nice,” she said. “Stiles is great, but he insisted on singing the chorus to _You’ll Never Walk Alone_ twice yesterday, loud enough to draw attention. I think he scandalized a jogger when he decided to add hip thrusts.

Scott laughed. “Yeah. Love you, buddy, don’t give up other dreams for a singing career.”

They walked in companionable silence a little while longer, until Scott touched her cast and said, “Allison, do you realize--”

“Yeah. Stiles drew it.”

Lydia’s name was huge, taking up a solid half of the cast, with flourishes and _xoxox_ s. Scott had signed “Scott McCall,” which had cracked them both up at the time, though they didn’t even know why. Isaac had printed his name, which Stiles thought was funny and defeated the entire purpose of a signature. Kira had carefully written her name in Korean script below her signature, which everyone thought looked cool. And then there was Stiles’ name, the first on the cast, and below it the most recent addition--a stick-figur _ish_ drawing of Allison pulling back the string of a bow, with a humongous arrow ready to launch.

“But you know the arrow looks like a--”

“I know. You don’t have to say it. He shouldn’t try to be an artist, either.”

“But it’s--”

“I know.”

“A giant dick.”

Allison sighed. “A giant dick. He said he made the arrow extra big to symbolize my _bad assery_. He was so pleased with himself, I didn’t have the heart to say anything.”

Scott laughed. “Oh my god. Stiles was probably pleased with himself because he got away with drawing a giant dick on your cast.” He almost bent double laughing. “Has your dad seen it yet.”

“He didn’t say anything about it, but he stared a long time. And suggested moving to Colorado again. Lydia tried stickers, but they won’t work with the texture of the cast. She offered to try decoupage. I’d let her if it wasn’t coming off soon.”

Scott kept glancing at the cast and laughing, until Allison said, “Hey, I--I like Kira. She’s . . . she’s really great.”

He nodded. “She is. And Isaac . . . well, you know I like Isaac. He’s a good guy. And I’m sure he’ll never, ever hurt you.”

She frowned a little. “How can you be so sure of that?”

“He knows you can stab the living shit out of him.” They both laughed, just as the jogger Stiles had startled yesterday passed, clearly overhearing and giving them a look as if they were an oddity. Allison hoped that tomorrow the jogger would be there again, and Isaac would be the one walking with her. Last time he’d worn a garish scarf and had been so awkward that he’d finger-waved at everyone who’d looked at them. If she didn’t know him, she’d have been a little creeped out, herself.

Maybe they could teach him better social skills while they taught Lydia to fight. In fact, as soon as she was able to handle a sword or a crossbow again, she was going to ask Kira to help her teach Lydia. She would stand between a fox and a banshee, and the three of them, three _friends_ , were going to be strong, beautiful and absolutely kick-ass.

She squeezed Scott’s arm and breathed deeply, the air crisp but not cold enough to steam her breath. That judgemental jogger could take her dirty looks elsewhere, Allison thought, because she was alive and happy, and her friends, all of them, were perfect.


End file.
